977. Rolled in salt, sealed inside a dead goat, buried for 500 years, disinterred by humanity's cyborg descendants, fired back and forth between galaxies a few times through some kind of awesome portal just for the hell of it, nuked to a sickly green glow by the deadly ambient radiation of the distant future, bisected with a laser, served on an invisible bed of antimatter to your long-mummified remains (Uovo di Sciocco, $14.95 plus unlimited salad and breadsticks, your local Olive Garden)